


It Could Have Been Worse

by Houseplant



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (if I remember correctly that is), Bisexual Prompto, Cindy Aurum is transgender in this, Dad!Prompto, Depression (alluded to), Dirty Sex in a Luxury Hotel, F/M, Gift Fic, If that is not your thing please do not hate okay?, Mom!Cindy, MtF!Cindy, Mutual Masturbation, No Fix It Endings happened, Oral Sex, Other, PTSD (alluded to), Post Ten Years Of Darkness, Prom and Cindy have a common-law marriage, Sometimes a family is two nerds. their son they found in the desert. and a fancy car okay?, The son is only in this briefly so you can skip over it if you hate OCs that much, They have a kid and a garage so that's basically the same thing as mariage, This was supposed to be Porn Without Plot What happened, Trans!Cindy, Which basically means they've lived together so long they are considered married, they adopted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 13:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14619234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houseplant/pseuds/Houseplant
Summary: A shipment of parts for the garage is delayed, leaving Prompto and Cindy to decide what to do while they wait for their contact in Galdin Quay. Still obviously infatuated with each other even after several years of a common-law marriage and raising a found teenager together, they do what any couple would logically do; they make use of what the Quay has to offer.But it's not all fun and sex, as survivor's guilt weighs heavy on Prompto's mind, promising to turn the trip sour at any moment.[Features an MtF!Cindy so if that's not your cup of tea, please kindly make yourself another and don't drink mine.]





	It Could Have Been Worse

**Author's Note:**

> If you know me IRL please don't talk to me in-person about this fic. Thank you.
> 
> Apsen [their son] is an OC that belongs to my friend whom I added for world-grounding purposes. If you hate OCs in fanfiction, you can skip the second section denoted with 'xxXXxx' and also the third-to-last paragraph. I hope you enjoy!

 

Cindy was the most beautiful girl in the world. It was an unarguable fact, and no feat of logic or royal blood could dissuade Prompto of the notion. Luna was okay to look at, and he certainly still had _dreams_ about that cave with Aranea, but at the end of the day half his heart belonged to a gearhead in a garage from the beginning of their journey who, if truths be told, shouldn't have even given him the time of day.

 

On a good day, Prompto was perhaps a six out ten; hair perfectly done and his face not looking so blotchy and red. Cindy, meanwhile, could roll out of bed with last night's engine grease on her face, and she would still be a fifteen out of ten. The astrals must have special ordered ever piece during her creation, for there was not a bit of her that was not absolutely perfect.

 

Even when the sun set all those years ago, and the land grew dark and full of peril, Cindy lost not an ounce of radiance when everyone else turned ashy, pale, and forgettable. Hammerhead became a beacon of hope for those who could not reach Lestallum – for those who had to help restore the light in other ways.

 

The day that Prompto showed up on the garage's cracked pavement, guns still smoking from the trek up and shoulder bloodied and torn, he too believed that he had lost his light.

 

It took many nights in the garage working on whatever the winds of fate blew their way, many hunts away from 'home' to help clear out and save the last stragglers from a world of ruin, and an extra piece to their puzzle before Prompto's own light was restored.

 

Years after the sun rose again, the world still didn't feel quite _normal_ , but gone were the nights of with endless terrors appearing from the sludgy miasma whenever the whim struck them. Gone were the days of warning motorists of daemon locations down the road, of telling folks not to head out after dark unless they were fully prepared and absolutely _desperate_.

 

Now, daemons were beginning to be the story that parents told their unruly children to keep them in line, and soon they would be just that: Stories. It was a weird transition to live through, going from fighting the monster in the dark to only being able to tell tales of the monster in the dark.

 

“You a'right there, suga?” Cindy's voice cut through the silence, breaking Prompto's reverie and causing the blonde to jolt to attention.

 

“Uh...,” Ever the picture of eloquence, Prompto looked between his wife and their adopted son.

 

“You zoned out for, um...” Apsen glanced down at his phone, which had the stopwatch application open, still counting numbers. A quick press to the screen, and the counting ceased. “Four minutes and thirty seven seconds.”

 

“Somethin' on yer mind?” Cindy asked, already clearing the dishes away from their simple breakfast and motioning for Prompto to hand her his bowl before setting them in the sink.

 

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you guys,” Prompto replied, patented grin back on his face as he pushed his chair away from the table and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his wonderful wife before taking it upon himself to start the washing up. Behind his back, mother and son shared a knowing look, but the topic was dropped.

 

Each member of the family had their own skeletons in the closet, and they were all too respectful to go and rattle old bones. It was healthier to bottle up issues and take on a dangerous hunt well out of your prime years than to talk about your problems, after all. Easier to not burden anyone with insignificant trivia that way, too.

 

“Don't forget that we've got to get that shipment of parts down from Galdin Quay,” Cindy spoke over the water running, placing a quick kiss behind Prompto's ear (and earning an appropriately disgusted look from their teenage son for doing so). “I'll be in the garage when you're ready, Sunshine.”

xxXXxx

 

Apsen remained home; someone had to book in orders should they arise, and the lad had a charity livestream booked for the day. Since the sun had returned to the sky, business had picked up both at the garage and the chocobo post with people wanting to see more of the world now that it was almost taken from them.

 

None of the Aurum-Argentum household wanted to see their feathered friends fall by the wayside once the roads were fully restored and motorized travel would be feasible for most of Eos once more, so Apsen took it upon himself to use his internet notoriety to garner gil for their favourite flightless travelers. (And it might have had something to do with the fact that both father and son _adored_ the creatures.)

 

Sometimes doing charity work meant that Apsen couldn't join his folks on a supply run or two, but that was perfectly acceptable in the teen's book. He was far old enough to take care of himself, bum leg and all, and his folks-- verified work-a-holics – deserved whatever time away from the garage they could get.

 

There was only so much parental flirting a teen could take, after all. Plus, it would be nice to focus on his stream (after putting a 'closed' sign up on the garage doors) and eat chili cheese fries at five in the morning with no one there to judge him.

xxXXxx

 

The sun beat hot and heavy over Galdin Quay, as if it had to make up for ten years where it hadn't been able to warm the land with a vengeance and all at once. Perhaps it was frightened that darkness would blanket the land once more, too.

 

The bright yellow truck bearing Hammerhead's insignia pulled into the most difficult parking lot ever conceived, and took up a grand total of three parking spaces due to the sheer bulk of it. This was a place for vactioners and daytrippers in their fancy cars, and thinking about work trucks obviously hadn't been in the layout.

 

Anyone who might have though to complain about the loss of prime, asphalt-covered, real estate, thought better of themselves and the two blondes jumped expertly out of the cab.

 

“You make sure we got room to tie the cargo in nice an' secure, and I'll go an' check in with our supplier,” Cindy ordered, closing the cab door behind her with a loud _thud_ that would have made anyone who didn't know their way around large trucks _wince_.

 

“I checked the cords before we left, didn't see us lose any on the road,” Prompto's door closed behind him, an echoing _thud_ breaking the silence of the parking lot, but he knew better than to not double (and triple-check) their equipment. He'd been a hunter in the dark for far too long to not have a reasonable paranoia over the quality of their supplies; there were no do-overs when potions were scarce, no second trips when gas cost more than gil could ever pay for.

 

“Who are we meeting with, anyway?” Prompto asked, double checking that all the pieces to the ruck were precisely where they meant to be-- there were still too many abandoned cars for this habit to even be thought of as excessive. At least, not _yet_. A day would come when careless motorists would once more take the wheel, but that day was far from upon them.

 

“A girl Holly recommended. Cain't quite remember her name, put you remember the order we put in for that stuff from Altissia?”  
  
“Yeah, that was a few months back. The invoice has been sitting on the fridge, though.”

 

“Well, they finally got everythin' all together an' we decided it'd be easier on everyone if we were the ones what came down an' picked it up halfway.”

 

“Cheaper, too,” Prompto surmised, as they began walking onto the pier. If they could cut costs on travel expenses, it meant they wouldn't ever have to cut costs on quality. A good thing, if they wanted to be the name people remembered at the end of the day.

 

The sun felt nice on his bare arms, even if it was beating down with a vengeance. The scent of the sea reminded him of the roadtrip all those years ago, a bachelor party gone horrifically wrong now over a decade ago. He half expected to see Noct's feline friend on the boardwalk, and to see the prince bent down before it enamored as he always had been.

 

“Most definitely cheaper. She won't have to charge us for a rental,” Cindy's voice broke through his thoughts about cats and bygone princes, bringing him back to the real world they lived in.

 

“Was she gonna get a rental car?” Prompto asked, stopping halfway to lean against the railing and look out at the sea. The Quay was slowly rebuilding, but humans were always drawn to water-- and it seemed that without the constant threat of daemons, they were already returning to using the place as a vacation resort. He could see people's tents, gaudy and multicoloured, way off of the shore and rustling in the faint saltwater breeze.

 

And he could remember staying in tents, staying for _days_ at fishing spots, and plenty of good memories that made his heart heavier the more he dwelled upon them. He even remembered the giant crabs-creatures at the end, and how Ignis said they _definitely_ wouldn't taste good. (And how he'd always wanted to try, to see if the man could be wrong about _something_.)

 

“I think so. Rentin' a chocobo's still pretty cheap, Sunshine. She'd only have ta charge us 'bout fifteen extra gil for the bird. Not fifteen-hundred.”

 

“Hmm...,” Prompto agreed wordlessly, watching a couple chase each other across the beach. The last time he had been down here, before the sun set upon them and never rose again, there had been monsters down that end of the beach. He envied the couple's carefree gaiety, that they get to play and laugh in this world, now that the worst was behind them. “We should do car rentals. There's enough still laying about that I think it would be pretty decent if we can get the parts. I think it's most of their engines that've messed up from what I've seen. Should be a decent fix.”

 

“Nah, I just like fixin' 'em. Keepin' track of who got what, and who wrecked what, don't appeal t'me much. Just bring yer girl in, let me have a look under th' hood, and get back on the road again.”

 

“Might get more people back on the roads, Cin. And it means more foot traffic at the garage, probably help Takka out a fair deal too if more people came out to the diner. I _know_ Apsen is trying to single-handedly keep him afloat, but I bet the man would be happy to make an order that's not just fries for a change.”

 

Cindy didn't say anything to that, her eyes tracking the same couple that had caught his attention, so Prompto continued to voice his thoughts. “You could fix up the fleet, and if someone _does_ damage them, you can keep fixin' them. Sounds like a win-win for you, Cindy.”

 

“An' who's gonna keep track of all a' them, Prom? Who's gonna figure out all the fees and things? And if someone goes missin', do we have a hunter track 'em down?”

 

“I already do our book-keeping,” Prompto volunteered. “When we get back, I could put in a call to Iggy. Pick his brain and see what he thinks.”

 

“Could also go fer a drive right on back up ta the city. Bet an ol' City Boy like yerself is itchin' for your skyscraper fix,” Cindy teased, pausing before the walkway gave in to an above-water patio. The sea breeze gently ruffled her curls, and Prompto thought she was the most gorgeous thing the six had ever created.

 

“Maybe,” Prompto agreed, stretching his arms over his head and fastening his hands beneath his before looking around for their contact. “So uh, which one is she?” He expected a girl overburdened with grease-stained boxes of assorted metal pieces, things that would look like junk to the untrained eye. But everyone here looked like they were here for vacation, not to make a trade deal on a pier. It was mostly couples or families sitting around the round tables to dine on fresh seafood dishes originally crafted by Coctura, but the woman was no more. Another thing the years of darkness had taken from them-- but it seemed her recipes, her _memory_ , would live on... for a little while longer, at least.

 

Prompto and Cindy almost looked the odd ones out, smart coveralls with _Hammerhead Garage_ emblazoned on them upon their persons, opposed to comfortable beachwear. Their matching jackets were definitely too hot for the weather, but neither deigned to remove said piece of clothing.

 

“Good question,” Cindy replied, already fishing in her pocket for her mobile phone. Just as she was about to unlock the device, the screen lit up with an incoming call, and she and Prompto shared a knowing look as she hit the 'accept' button. Prompto waited with baited breath and the call took more than three minutes, and he was fully convinced that the pier at Galdin Quay hosted some form of evil curse whose only purpose was to inconvenience travelers who would much rather be on their way than on a vacation.

 

He was so entrenched in his own thoughts about the perceived curse that he didn't notice his wife trying to get his attention til she was waving her hand in his face, with a look somewhere between bemused and annoyed on her own. “Didja hear a word I said?”

 

“Uh... no. Not anything after the bit with the goblins,” Prompto answered truthfully. At least, his version of truthfully.

 

Cindy blinked. Then blinked at him again, as if he'd grown a second head. “Goblins. _Right_ ,” She accepted it without question, that the sometimes-idiot she shared her garage with had chased a random thought down a rabbit hole and hadn't thought to come up for air, or to listen to a single word she'd said. Sometimes her boys just _wanted_ to make it difficult to love them. “As I was sayin' before ya... decided to go away on me, is that Hol's girl's boat is delayed. Waters are too choppy out by Altissia for 'em t'risk a cargo boat.”

 

“So... where does that leave us?” Prompto asked, looking over the ocean and squinting at the waves, as if that would help him spot turbulence an entire country away. The skies over the Quay were clear and balmy, almost _sultry_ , and it was difficult to imagine there being an upset _anywhere_ else.

 

“I was gonna ask you that, Sunshine,” Cindy replied, turning her gaze to the ocean as well, She seemed pensive, as if she, too, could not fathom the betrayal brought upon them by the very whims of nature. “I ain't got any qualms with headin' back home early, there's always somethin' what needs doin' at the garage.”

 

“But...,” Prompto hedged, casting a glance her way. He had a feeling she wasn't _quite_ done with that line of thought.

 

“But...,” Cindy continued with a smile that could make the very gods bow before her, “You an paw-paw always tell me ta take a break every once in a while.”

 

“We have the gil for the hotel down here?”

 

“Prom. You're a 'glaive still whether you like it or not. Y'got friends up in high places, _you_ have the gil for this sorta place. For _any_ of these places if y'say the right word. Y'still alive in a world that owes ya, I'm purdy darn certain that means y'get to name-drop at a fancy hotel.”

 

“We _did_ do a lot for this world, didn't we,” Prompto mused in agreement, giving a slight nod as he thought about it. He had walked til the soles of his shoes had fallen off, had fought on four days of no sleep, survived on a single can on indistinguishable “food” for a week... so that they could have a _chance_ at having a life like this once again. It didn't seem so wrong to use the past, when the occasion called for it.

 

“Mhm,” Cindy nodded, taking off her Hammerhead cap to ruffle her hair. The salt breeze was already starting to undo her defined curls, making them look a little more lived-in than usual. Setting her hat back upon her head, she glanced down the walkway to where their bright yellow truck sat in the lot. “So you go an' the the bags outta the truck an' I'll get us a room.”

 

“Shouldn't it be the other way around, if you're gonna be using my name and all? Shouldn't I... at least _be_ there _?”_

 

“Nah. I know how to use your name better'n you.”

 

Prompto thought on that for a second, before letting it go with a one-shouldered shrug of acknowledgment. “Gonna get a queen or a double?” Prompto asked, already making his way down the path to grab their bags-- spare clothes and toothbrushes, a habit left over from living in a world once so ruined. It always made sense to be prepared, for _anything_ , that the world, or life, might throw at them.

 

“Probably a double, an' you're sleeping on the floor,” Cindy joked, shooing Prompto off with a wave of her hand. “Imma put both the beds t'gether for _myself_ and you're not even gettin' a blanket!”

 

“That's so not fair!” Prompto mock-complained, forcing a fake whine into his voice that carried nicely on the breeze and caused a nearby seagull to grace him with a murderous glare.

 

“Hurry up or you won't even get to stay in the room with me!” Cindy called after him, grinning ear to ear from how easy it was to fluster her husband-- she could see his indignant blush even from this far away.

xxXXxx

 

The last time Prompto had seen the hotel at Galdin Quay, it had been in disrepair; fresh out of being a playground of daemons and ballsy vagabonds that wanted to take them on. It had basically been a suicide mission, if you heard someone was heading out to the Quay back in the day, you knew not to worry about them coming back.

 

Before that, the last time he had been _in_ the hotel had been that fateful day when the headlines changed their lives forever. _Insomnia Falls_. Two innocuous words that, when strung together like that, meant so, so, _so much more_ than he could ever explain.

 

Needless to say, he was looking forward to making new, less bittersweet, memories in the hotel. Perhaps he could overwrite the save data of an old life, begin the file anew, and just have good memories of every corner of Eos.

 

If the beds were _anywhere_ near as comfortable as he remembered them being a couple of decades ago, he was going to _enjoy_ making those new memories, too.

 

“Do you want me to unpack the bags? How long do you think our parts our going to be delayed?” Prompto asked as soon as the door to their room was closed behind them. The sheer curtains to the windows were open, and they had the most fantastic, unfettered, view of Angelgard all to themselves.

 

Knowing now what the island was, his fingers no longer itched to immortalize it in a photo. He didn't want to hold onto the image and keep it forever, rather, he would have preferred to keep the photo in the dye bath a _bit_ too long and let it blur out from memory. But such was not an option for him, and instead he pulled the gauzy curtains closed-- the shadow of the island still hovered in the distance, a reminder of a lifetime ago.

 

“Prolly not too long. I reckon a coupla days before the sea settles,” Cindy replied, tapping her finger to her chin in thought. “Y'can leave the bags there, we won't be needin' 'em for a bit. Not as hot as the desert out here, but I'm still itchin' t' see what kind of shower hookup a swanky place like this's got.”

 

The shower was fancier than either of them could have expected; it seemed like daemonification and demolition did the place well. The bathroom itself seemed to mirror the sheer size of their expansive room, and the 'shower' was hidden by beveled glass panels that must have taken an age and a half to craft. How they found enough glass after the end, and rebirth, of their world, to make them was a mystery that would forever remain unsolved.

 

The beveled glass doors gave way to the fanciest stone work Prompto had ever seen (and he _had_ taken at _least_ one shower in Noct's personal shower in the Citadel—an entire lifetime ago). The grout between the stonework seemed to glisten, as if stars were caught between the rockface. It felt like he was outside and in nature all in the same breath.

 

There were so many hoses and nozzles and spigots that Prompto was certain it would take an entire month's vacation to figure out _exactly_ what each one of them did-- how did families ever get down to the sandy, craggy, beach when such luxury was available to them?

 

While Prompto was staring around, mouth agape like a particularly brainless goldfish, Cindy already had her hands on the various knobs and dials, feeling her way around them as she turned them every which way. They learnt that there were at least three nozzles (and _several_ showerheads!) dedicated solely to hot water, and at least one hose had a stream of liquid soap that smelled like an entire field of sylleblossoms.

 

“So whaddya say, Sunshine? Wanna test this beauty out wi' me?” Cindy asked, the side of her mouth quirking up into a sly grin, giving him a look that told him _all_ he needed to know about what she was implying.

 

“Not 'get clean' with you?” Prompto couldn't resists hoking, even when Cindy was giving him _that_ look. That very look of lust and love that he would have slain an entire empire for back in his youth. (And, thankfully, it hadn't taken that much single-handed carnage to win his goddess' heart, and he got to keep _some_ of the last vestiges of his humanity.)

 

“Naw,” Cindy was smiling now in that way that told him she was holding back laughter herself, still amused by him even after all this time. (And she could do so, so, _soooo_ much better than a genetic fuckup like himself, so Prompto was grateful for these wordless honesties, affirmations, between them.) “Plenty a' time fer that later,” Cindy breathed, closing the gap between them and pressing her lips to her husband's, resting her hands on his chest and a clear indication of what she wanted on her face.

 

The steamy shower water running the background cast a haze over the two of them, and standing there, just out of the path of the most aggressive of the showerheads but still getting flecked with droplets of water, Prompto couldn't help but think he was the luckiest man in all of Eos to be standing here, kissing the woman of his dreams, in the most luxurious hotel that gil could buy.

 

Running his fingers through her curls while she placed sloppy, open-mouthed kissed down his exposed throat and neck, it almost felt like nothing bad had ever happened in their world. And in the moment, in this shower, he could _forget_ \-- if only for the moment.

 

It was hard to tell if it was the stream from the shower, or the steam between the two of them, but things were starting to grow _uncomfortably_ _warm_.

 

“Cin,” He started to speak, only to be cut off by another kiss, his brain temporarily short-circuiting. It was still hard to believe that _she_ liked _him_. “Jacket,” he tried again, his voice thick with desire as he placed his hands on her shoulders and nudged the now-offending garment to the ground, kicking it to a corner of the shower so that they wouldn't trip over it.

 

“Get yours off,” Cindy instructed, already unzipping the front to her coveralls and letting them bunch down around her waist before going in for the kill and unhooking her bra in a one-handed maneuver that Prompto _swore_ had to be some sort of girl-magic. Years into their relationship, and getting that piece of fabric off in one go still eluded him.

 

Prompto didn't need to be told twice, throwing his own simple garage coveralls into the same corner as Cindy's jacket, which was soon accompanied by her salmon-coloured bra. His dignity was still covered by thin boxers, but they were leaving little to the imagination as his cock strained against the quickly dampening fabric.

 

He couldn't keep his eyes off of Cindy as her clothes were removed, each time she disrobed it was just as mesmerizing as the first time they had shared a desperate fuck in a quiet trailer, back when no one knew just what time it was anymore. Just as the first time, he was enthralled by her breasts-- far too large by anyone's account, but they _suited her_. They were fake, and that was just fine with him-- they didn't flop or bounce as much as purely natural breasts when released from clothing, but they were still _absolutely perfect._

 

They belonged to Cindy, so how could he ever find fault with the goddess of the gears? He loved every inch of her, and her tits were still soft and warm beneath his hands. (Years ago she had confessed that she couldn't feel very much in them, but that the sheer act of him treating her just like he would a cis-woman was enough of a turn on to make up for it. And why wouldn't he treat her like the goddess she was? She would _always_ be woman enough for him. )

 

Prompto would never get used to how perfect, how absolutely gorgeous Cindy was. Just being able to place his hands on her chest and not get slapped for it had to be a gift from the very gods who delighted in taking so much away. Getting to kiss them was even better, mouth and tongue exploring flesh so perfect that the astrals had tried to deny them to her in the first place.

 

His oral exploration led him further south, following open-mouthed kisses with small nips to the skin, scraping his teeth over the went marks _just enough_ to tease, and before he knew it was on his knees in the shower, nudging the last bit of Cindy's coveralls down over her hips and thighs, and gently freeing her cock from matching panties as if it were a precious gift. Prompto was far from a dick-expert, but he knew his way around this one well enough.

 

Back when they had first started getting together, he had learnt that she would be smaller and more sensitive than him due to years of hormonal treatments, and that he couldn't be _anywhere_ near as rough with her as he was with himself. He figured himself lucky that he'd never get accused of being able to find her clit while eating her out when they were together. ( _That_ had earned him a playful smack with her cap, back in the day.)

 

Years later, he still couldn't get over how _perfect_ she was. “Gods, Cin, you're beautiful like this,” Prompto breathed, looking up at the woman above him; her back was against the stone wall, curls damp and disheveled from the heat and their messing, droplets of water dripping down her chest as if they knew that they weren't worthy to be there.

 

“Wanna take a picture?” Cindy teased, looking down at him from half-lidded eyes. She had no issue with being the subject of his photography, even the more _risque_ ones.

 

“Mm,” Prompto thought about. “Kinda. But I didn't bring the waterproof casing with me.”

 

“That's a real shame. Bet I look real purdy from down ther--” Cindy's teasing was cut short by Prompto taking her in his mouth, running his tongue along the length of her-- she might have been 'small' (if she was a dude), but it was more than enough to fill his mouth, a pleasant weight upon his tongue that... after a few swirls of his tongue around her cock, he had to pull up for air.

 

“You were saying?” He laughed, continuing to tease her with his fingers-- slow and gentle strokes from base to tip, delighting in feeling her harden even more beneath him, his own spit working as decent lubricant for the world's slowest handjob.

 

“Come up here and let me fuck you, or keep doing _that_ ,” Cindy demanded, her voice near breathless, and a throaty chuckle escaped Prompto at his goddess' demands. Nonetheless, he rose to the occasion, pressing in close to her and making _certain_ that she could _feel_ just how _interested_ he was, his own still-clothed cock poking into her thigh, demanding attention of its own.

 

“How do you want me?” Prompto asked, greeting her mouth with his own and only pulling away from the intense kiss when neither of them could no longer breath. There was also something inexplicably _exhilarating_ about battling tongues with someone who's cock he'd just had in his mouth, as if they shared a dirty secret together.

 

“Against the wall.” Cindy replied, nudging his boxers down around his ankles and kicking them to the same pile of discarded clothes as the rest, drawing their cocks together. She was soft, and pink, against his decidedly angy-looking cock, a pearlescent red at the tip fading into his natural skin tone. Together, they looked _absolutely_ _gorgeous_ , and... and maybe he was a bit more a dick guy than he let on.

 

A few strokes of Cindy's experienced hands and he was already shaking, trying not to give way to release-- the gentle way she held the two of them together and the callouses upon her hands from a life well lived had a way of doing him in that wasn't particularly dignified.

 

“You're—nnn--gonna have to go slower,” Prompto moaned as Cindy's calloused thumb crested over the head of his cock, smearing his pre-come into her own and making a _mess_. And _shit_ that was _hot_ , the way her hand glided over the both of them, hitting _both_ their sensitive spots, seamlessly twisting her wrist and ministrations to tease the both of them near to the brink of fruition.

 

“Don't I always go slow for ya?” Cindy's voice was husky as she asked, placing a kiss to his scarred shoulder as she released their cocks from the embrace of her warm hand; her own flopping back down to place but none the less interested, and his continuing to jut out from his body in a defiant cry for attention. Her hands upon his hips didn't help how _interested_ he was, gently guiding them to switch places and to rest his stomach against the wall, cock crushing up almost uncomfortably against the textured stone wall.

 

Kisses trailed down his spine, and he _shivered_ despite the heat, trying desperately to not shake with anticipation for what was to come. Prompto was not dissapointed as the kisses ended at his ass, and Cindy pulled away, mouth replaced by hands that traced over the patterns of freckles there, her fingertips feather-light against his exposed flesh. (Apparently a cluster on his left asscheek looked like one of the constellations, but he'd never been able to compare them for himself). The warmth of her kisses was soon replaced by the warmth of her sliding her cock between his cheeks, the water of the shower making a decent lubricant as she rubbed against him.

 

Even though she was gentle, sliding her cock in and out between his ass cheeks, it was still enough for his sensitive ass to start to feel worn out from the teasing, and he was tempted to tell her to _get on with it_ and _just fuck him already_ , but he was no longer a man barely out of his teen years who could afford to take an ass-fucking without proper preparation.

 

“Uh... Cindy--?” Prompto hesitated to ask. “You're not... going to...?”

 

“Do ya dirty without lube? Or a condom?” Cindy finished for him.

 

“. . .Yeah. . . ?”

 

“Hells nah. Jus' makin' ya feel good,” And as if to punctuate her point, she reached over to give a few teasing strokes to his cock, relieving some of the tension he'd been holding in himself.

 

“Did we-- _ah---_ did we even --- _bring_ – lube? Prompto asked, already turning to putty in her hand, the overwhelming feeling of being with someone he _loved_ (and who loved him _back) really_ doing it for him.

  
  


“Prolly in the truck,” Cindy mused, licking a stripe up the shell of his ear that had him biting back a moan at the unexpected feeling and adding, “Y'don't think I can get you off like this? Jus' you an' me, nothin' extra ta help us?”

  
  


“I don't doubt that you _can_ ,” Prompto replied, biting back another moan at her expert hands exploring his body. He didn't even flinch when her fingers traced over childhood stretchmarks, lightning streaks of pink and silver that refused to fade, and didn't flinch when she traced over the scars left over from the riskier hunts he took on in the peak of darkness and desolation. “... Just wanted to be able to sit in the truck t'morrow.”

  
  


“Oh, you will be,” Cindy assured him, placing another kiss to his ruined shoulder-- it was her favourite place to kiss on him, she once confessed, a permanent sign that he wasn't going to run off into reckless danger on them again. The resilience of the scar tissue there was a testament to Prompto's determination to see things through, to carry his promises and to get to the end of his journeys even in the toughest of times.

  
  


“I wouldn't take you dry, even if I was drugged up like in one of those shitty porn movies where there ain't nothin' real left on them guys an' gals,” She promised, sealing it with another expert stroke of his cock.

  
  


“If you're drugged I don't wanna be having sex with you anyway,” Prompto attempted to sound haughty, but the breathless quality to his voice took away any and all credibility he had towards being affronted at that moment anyway.

  
  


“That's why I married ya. I like a fella that can stick to his guns even when presented with a lady like m'self.”

  
  


“You're more a desert rose than a 'lady',” Prompto countered good-naturedly. “Seen your thorns a few too many tmes m'self.”

  
  


“This 'desert rose's' about t'leave y'high an' dry if you keep it up,” Cindy laughed, completely ignorning her own threat as she continued to glide in and out of him, enjoying having his body beneath her. If someone had told her years ago that she'd end up with someone as fit and versatile as Prompto, she would have told them to drink a pint of motor oil and get back to her when they'd come to their senses. Now she knew she was truly blessed to have someone who loved her for _her_ , spare parts and all.

  
  


“You wouldn't!” Prompto mock-gasped, earning him a snort and light smack on a flat asscheek for his insolence.

  
  


“I would, an' I will if y'keep backtalkin'.”

  
  


“Maybe we can go back to what we were doin' before if you want me quiet that badly,” Prompto suggested, and he could feel Cindy pause behind him-- considering it.

  
  


“I got a better idea. Turn around.”

  
  


“Facing you?” Prompto asked for clarification.

  
  


“Mhm.”

  
  


“Kay. Right,” Prompto agrees, slowly turning around so that he was face-to-face with his love-- for a brief moment before she went to her knees, mirroring his stance from earlier. He swallowed thickly, the anticipation going straight to his cock.

  
  


“Eager, arentcha?” Cindy asked, lips barely a centimeter away from the head, her warm breath teasing him for a moment just before he disappeared into her perfect mouth.

  
  


And _shit, fuck DAMN_ , was it _hot_ to watch her take him in with ease-- and without hesitation. She was _gorgeous_ like, her hand stroking herself off while her tongue worked him with such expert precision it nearly brought tears to his eyes. _Now_ he truly wished he'd brought the casing for his camera, for this.. this was _exquisite_ , and he would have to keep it in memory only, not.

  
  


“Mmm-- I'm not... not going to...” He tried to warn her that he wasn't going to last long, but she only hummed acknowledgment around his cock and that--

  
  


Time stopped. It had to have been only seconds, cause when he 'came to' Cindy was still on her knees in front of him, wiping her own mess away on the shower floor and looking up at him with a bemused expression on her face.

  
  


“Y'a'right there, Sunshine?” She asked, and he nodded wordlessly. “Good.” Cindy decided for him, and he could only nod again.

  
  


“What do you say we try this shower out for real, now?”

  
  


Another nod.

  
xxXXxx

  
  


The shower was better than anything they had ever experienced when they were using it _properly_ , and the beds of the Quay were far more comfortable than Prompto remembered them. The covers were soft, and warm, but perfectly chosen for the area-- the bed beneath him was _so soft_ he wished he it would envelop him and lure him to sleep.

  
  


But that was the problem, he _remembered_. He remembered going to sleep beneath theses very sheets years ago... and he remembered waking up the world going to pot. ...For the first time.

  
  


The world had ended and began anew _twice_ for Prompto Argentum, and fearing a third turbulent upheaval of everything that was good and right in their lives, he couldn't sleep – not even with the love of his life breathing gently in the bed beside him.

  
  


After another hour of staring at the ceiling, of fruitless tossing and turning, and hoping that sleep would claim him, Prompto gave up. He didn't want to accidentally wake Cindy by being a fretful and paranoid piece of shit who couldn't keep his act together for more than twenty-four hours.

  
  


As silently as he could, he slid his legs out of bed, pulling his pants back up over his hips and deciding that a walk along the beach would do him some good – the wonders of fresh air and all. Just as he was pulling his denim jack on (emblazoned with patches much in the style of his youth) his bedmate cleared her throat, looking at him fondly from over a mess of crumpled covers. “Finally gave up pretendin' you were gonna sleep?”

  
  


“Yeah – uh... sorry. Did I wake you?”

  
  


“Been wakin' me. Y've got some damn bony elbows, never gonna get used ta it. Thought a voretooth was sniffin' 'round the first time.”

  
  


“Why didn't you say anything?”

  
  


“Cause you got your stubborn pride. An' I drifted off enough times for y't'not bother me.”

  
  


“But you're awake now.”

  
  


“So are you. An' yer dressed. Goin' somewhere?”

  
  


“Uh..,” Prompto faltered. “Yeah. Figured the beach would be empty this early. It'd... give me time to think.”

  
  


“Hmm,” Cindy mused, and she was quiet for long enough after that that Prompto thought she had gone back to sleep. Just as he was about to accept that the conversation was over and that she had gone back to sleep on him, the bedclothes rustled and out of them an absolute goddess emerged-- throwing her jacked over her sleepclothes and shoving her feet into her boots as she ran a hand through her disheveled hair. “I'm coming with you.”

  
  


Prompto didn't protest. There was no sense in doing that, and telling Cindy what to do (or not do) wasn't really his thing anyway.

  
  


Just as predicted, the beach was empty at this time of morning. The sun had long set and it wouldn't rise again for a few more hours, the stars reflecting and refracting in the waves of the ocean, appearing as though they were attempting to hitch a ride to the shore only to be thwarted by the conditions of their very existence.

  
  


The two of them walked in silence, enjoying the lack of daemons that the refurbished night brought. It didn't mean that there weren't still creatures in the world that could kill them, large, nasty, and with far too many teeth-- it simply meant that there were _fewer_ of them. It was nice to take a walk at night and not have to worry about killing anything-- or anything killing _them_. It let Prompto have time alone with his thoughts.

  
  


“It's surreal,” Prompto finally spoke after they had walked so far down the shore that the hotel was just a fleck of light in the distance. “It all got fixed up so well, so fast.”

  
  


Cindy didn't interrupt him, letting him speak his mind. Letting anyone do this was important, just being _listened to_ after shouting into the void for so long was therapeutic in its own way.

  
  


“It looks almost exactly as it did before, y'know. Back when I was down here with Noct and the guys, before everythin' happened. We can fix the building, rebuild. We can restore the powerlines, fix up all the cars in Eos and still--” Prompto trailed off, glaring out at the ocean as if it was the reason for all their trouble.

  
  


“We cain't fix what you wanna fix,” Cindy finished for him. “Cain't changed the past, Sunshine. Y'know this. Ain't no fixin' it now, it's all been done.”

  
  


“Yeah,” Prompto agreed listlessly, unballing his fists and letting his hands dangle at his sides.

  
  


“You gonna go on another 'I'm useless' tangent?” Cindy asked, air quotes and all. “ 'Cause if so, I'm gonna get started walkin' back t'that bed, y'hear?”

  
  


“Yeah. I mean... No. ….Maybe?”

  
  


Cindy wrapped an arm around Prompto's shoulders, gesturing to the vast expanse of the ocean. “Y'ever think the sea ever feels guilty 'cause it ain't died yet?”

  
  


The question took Prompto by surprise. “Uh – No?”

  
  


“Good. 'Cause it don't. It's gonna keep bein' the sea no matter what, right?”

  
  


“. . .Yeah?”

  
  


“So you're gonna do that, too. I'm gonna call Hol's girl at first light an' see what's the status of our delivery, an' you...,” Cindy gave him a thoughtful look. “Why dontcha give yer son a call?” It was an obvious hint, that he had people there for him, people who _depended_ on him, and that their found family was a fair enough reward for the heartache the preceded it.

  
  


( _It would never stop Prompto from wishing that his best friend was still around to see it. Maybe, in another life, he and Cindy could have been invited to fancy dinners with Noctis and Luna and made commoner fools of themselves over not knowing which set of silverware to use.)_

  
  


“Yeah...” Prompto agreed, taking the bait, and placing his most patented smile back on his face. He was good at _faking_ the smile til it felt natural, and some days... some days it just slipped. That was what happened here, a momentary lapse brought on by a familiar place without any familiar faces. He would be fine. _He had to be_.

  
  


The sun rose once more over the Quay, bathing the shore in hues of rich orange and pastel pink, bringing out every glittery speck in the sand and making the ocean appear as though it was set ablaze. It would be a _good day,_ and Prompto _did_ make a call back home once the time was right;

  
  


“ _Hey kiddo, it's Dad. How'd the stream go? Your mom and I are gonna be down in the Quay for a could more days – our delivery got tied up. Eat somethin' that's not a fry for once, or I'll personally bring Uncle Iggy down to yell at you about food!_ ”

  
  


There would always be loose threads from a life once lived, but they were doing the best at weaving them into a new tapestry. The three of them, together, one family and one garage... They could all heal a wound given to them from the world. And, at the end of the day, Prompto had to remind himself: It could have been worse.

  
  


_It always could have been worse._

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be PWP. I set out to write PWP! But I can't even do that correctly ^^;
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I know this is a niche pairing in the fandom, so if you DID give it a read, please, pleaaaaase leave a comment! It's awesome to hear from other people who like this ship, and, who knows... maybe more like it will be in the future.


End file.
